Someone I used to know

There is a man I used to know.

I met him when I was 20, at the age when I was still very young and impressionable. He was considerably older, and we were friends for 15 years. The friendship was a rocky and volatile one, and there were long stretches of time where we didn’t speak or see each other, sometimes even for a year or two. He was not good for me, but somehow I kept going back, perhaps because I didn’t want to lose a friendship that had somehow lasted, despite the quarrels and the rows.

Then in 2014 I embarked on a soul-searching journey, and came back with renewed faith in myself, that no one had the right to treat me badly or put me down; I have all the right to walk away if someone made me feel that way. So, I walked away.

I blocked his number, but never quite deleted it. There was no point, I had memorised his number, and it is still etched in my mind even now, after all these years. I’m not quite sure why.

Ten years went by. Many times I had urges to contact him, but managed to control myself, reminding myself why I left in the first place.

Recently I just wondered how he was doing, and was seriously contemplating reaching out. Instead, I googled his name to see what he was up to. To my shock and disbelief, I found his obituary. He had passed away in 2021. I never knew. I never said goodbye.

I didn’t know how to feel. I still don’t. I can’t help wondering if he had tried to contact me, and failed, time and time again.

And now, I still have his number on my phone, still blocked, even as he is no more. I can’t find it in my heart to delete it, it would be like deleting a part of my history.

I think I need to forgive him for all the bad, and remember him for all the good. And one day when I am ready, to delete his number from my phone, and perhaps from my mind, even as his memory lives on.